Gypsy
by MinxyMinx
Summary: She was just supposed to watch and listen; make sure nothing crazy happened and report to S.H.I.E.L.D. if anything seemed out of the ordinary. Unfortunately for Jenna Hogan, every day at Stark Tower is out of the ordinary. The way trouble always seems to find her is out of the ordinary and the way that dangerous looking Asgardian looks at her is DEFINITELY not ordinary.


AN: Hello gorgeous readers, I hope you enjoy this little diddy. I haven't written anything in eons so he's my little attempt to write something. Anything.

Disclaimer: I do not own rights to anything related to Marvel or its affiliates. I don't even own my car so...

Jenna hated having visions first thing in the morning.

For one it was super difficult to differentiate vision from lingering dreams and, two, the usual after effect of throbbing headache was just, in general, a shitty way to start the day. Lucky for her this particular glimpse into the future was short and sweet.

It was a green tea latte.

Simple yet intensely sensory. The steam wafted upwards and she could smell the matcha. It wasn't in a to go cup but an actual porcelain tumbler; the kind you got in line at starbucks or some other fancy shop as a gift for someone you either adored or were sucking up to. Jenna couldn't see past the latte but she felt...was that anxiety? Yes, anxiety but it was mixed with something else. She was interested or focused on something, some unheard prospect.

The five senses were definitely not her most reliable companions during one of her episodes. Sometimes she had all five in perfect total clarity and sometimes things were missing like the ability to hear what was being said or even in extreme cases seeing anything at all. The only constant seemed to be what she referred mildly to as her 'sixth sense'; her feelings. Was she scared, excited, happy, or miserable? There was always something to feel and Jenna had to admit it was her least favorite part of her...condition.

Jenna groaned as she snapped back to reality like a brand new rubber band. Her hair was in her face and it felt like she had one too many shots of something sweet and girly. All in all, for sure wasn't the worst after-vision hangover but still. First thing in the morning always blew. Her alarm was chiming from her phone, she realized, rolling over to reach for the device. It was no use guessing how long it had been sounding its little bell. Once Jenna was in vision mode she was dead to the-OH CHRIST, did that say 7:15!?

A vision could feel like mere seconds and last obnoxiously long. Sometimes it was the reverse but fluff it all if it wasn't the former at the most inconvenient times! Jenna's shift at the bookstore started in fifteen minutes and it was a twenty minute walk from her apartment.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Jenna huffed, practically springing into a wrinkled pair of khaki slacks. "All this trouble for a fluffing _latte_!" Luckily she'd managed to somehow fall asleep in her bra so after locating a clean polo, relatively speaking, she dove into the bathroom to check what condition her hair was in.

Some days Jenna lamented having seemingly bone straight hair that couldn't hold a curl or a wave to save her life but on days like today it made that emergency messy bun that much easier. The only downside was that her face was totally exposed and it hit a chord of insecurity every time. That wasn't to say she had a bad face or was misshapen or strangely scarred; in fact, she rather liked her face. She was average and acceptable in every way what with a slight smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her nose was straight and small and her mouth neither too big or too small but her eyes...Therein lay the trouble. A weird and creepy shade of yellow-gold not unsimilar to that of a cat of some sort. Coupled with the darkness of her hair they practically jumped out at people and that left Jenna fielding all sorts of strange and sometimes even inappropriate comment from strangers.

_Oh my gosh your eyes are so amazing! You should totally use more makeup._

_Can I take a picture of you? My friend totally won't believe me when I tell her about that color!_

_Are you wearing colored contacts? Isn't that a little extreme? _

_I bet you just love all the attention you get, right? I'd totally use it to my advantage at the bar if I could! _

But mostly...mostly people just stared at her. Sometimes they didn't realize they were doing it, in fact that was most times. They'd begin talking to her, perhaps asking a question about a certain book and boom-accidental eye contact. Their sentence would suddenly trail off quietly and then they'd sort of frown or squint at her, trying to determine what exactly they were seeing. Very rarely did they snap back on their own without verbal intervention. So far Jenna's stare down record was four and a half minutes. Jenna hated people staring at her. If she was perfectly honest, it made her feel like they could see, even without knowing what they were seeing, that she was not normal and that made her feel very freak-like.

Jenna skipped the toothbrush entirely, opting to throw back a small mouthful of water and a glob of toothpaste and swish the contents around mercilessly while she shoved her feet into her boots and snatched her purse off the floor before tripping gracelessly out the door.

It was early fall in New York city so stumbling out of her apartment in nothing but slacks and a polo should have been fine but her she was deeply regretting her choice as a rather vindictive cold snap wrapped itself around her. Spitting out the foamy peppermint flavored mix Jenna groaned and grit her semi-clean teeth as she pushed herself into a jog. She'd have to run if she wanted to make it less that ten minutes late. Jenna didn't need the "gift" of foresight to know that no matter what she did Duncan, the smarmy twenty year old who took his management position way too seriously, would be pulling her aside yet again to discuss her future and level of commitment to the store while trying to subtly tongue-suck out food from his adult braces.

God, she needed a new life. That and way more cardio.

Finally, the unassuming storefront of the franchise chain bookstore made its way into her line of sight and Jenna slowed her pace to a trot in an effort to try control her heavy breathing. A stranger probably wouldn't say she was out of shape just from a cursory glance at her but put her on a treadmill for any amount of time and it was obvious she had the lung capacity of a chihuahua.

"Eight minutes late." Jenna mumbled to herself as she eyed the screen on her very much outdated cell phone. "Fluffity fluff fluff fluff." Eyes scanning for her overzealous superior, Jenna made her way to the customer service counter and tossed her purse in one of the few empty cabinets as discreetly as possi-

"Good morning, _Jenna._" Disapproval with a heavy undertone of smug.

Faaaaaaaaaack.

"Waiting for me at my workstation? Why Duncan, if I didn't know better I'd say you missed me." Jenna sighed, straightening from her stooped position to come face to face with the epitome of self-importance.

"I'll ignore that obvious attempt at sexual harassment in favor of reminding you that you've already been warned several times about your tardiness, young lady." Duncan scratched unconsciously at one of the several scabbed over blemishes on his face while he pursed his bird thin lips.

"I'm sorry if I caused any inconvenience but I had another episode this morning." Jenna sighed, punching in her clock-in code at her computer terminal. "I promise I got here as soon as I could."

"Funny how these 'seizures' you have seem to always come up whenever you have a shift. I've also yet to receive a doctor's note confirming you even _have_ seizures." The accusation hung heavy in the air.

"Seeing as I work full-time and most weekends the odds of me having a seizure while I'm scheduled is, if you understand the basic concepts of math, highly likely." Jenna frowned. "I'm sorry if I stressed out a customer with my lateness and couldn't help them find a book in the intensely labeled and easy to navigate aisles. As for the doctor's note, I've had them both fax it over to the store several times as well as email it to corporate-which reminds me, I don't think you're actually allowed to chastise me for having a serious medical condition. Also, I'm at least eight years older than you, _young man_." Jenna straightened up with all the fake indignation she could muster up behind the still steady throb in her head.

She was a lying lying liar face.

She did not have seizures but how else did one explain in a socially acceptable way that they sometimes stopped whatever they were doing to go vision questing? Also, there was no doctor's note nor would there ever be one because Jenna was positive they could scan her brain a million times and they would not find a single sign of epilepsy but they would find something else she wanted as few people as possible privy to.

"Age is just a number." Duncan's face reddened as he stopped picking at his face to clench his fists in embarrassed indignation. "I run this store based on maturity. I need that note sent to _my_ email, not the district managers or the regional manager for the fiftieth time."

"Fine," Jenna gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. "I'll call _yet again_." Attempting to sound as bored as possible she began opening up her login screen on the computer.

"Also, it's not my fault you look like you're in high school." Duncan sniped as he turned to quietly stomp his lanky frame away.

"Pretty sure you're not allowed to comment on that either." Jenna calmly called back to him, pulling up her call back list for customers whom had book orders arrive. Glancing at the tiny clock in the right hand corner of the screen she gave a small little whine.

It was only 7:50.

"Deep breath, Jenna." She whispered to herself, allowing her eyes to drift shut for a moment. "Deep breath." Her head drooped down and she rolled it left to right, attempting to acknowledge the ball of tension that suddenly resided in her neck.

"Man that guy is intense." The familiar, eternally unruffled, voice quietly interrupted her moment of self-pity. "Like walking hostility, really."

Suddenly she was staring at a green tea latte. _The_ green tea latte.

"Agent Coulson?" Jenna's head snapped up to meet the soft gaze of the older man. She could feel her heart rate begin to pick up."I'm not due for another check in until the end of the month." It sounded more than a little high pitched and defensive, even to her ears.

"Relax, I'm not here for a check in." Smiling, he gestured to the fancy latte. "In fact I come with delicious bribery."

"Huh." Jenna frowned trying to ignore the lure of said bribry. Her stomach growled traitorously, reminding her the only thing she'd had in her mouth this morning was toothpaste foam. "Why does S.H.I.E.L.D. bribery give me anxiety?"

"Because it usually comes with strings?" Coulson leaned into the counter casually, offering a sympathetic shrug.

"Like pretty and delicate violin strings or like angry threatening garrot strings?" Tapping a nail against the customer service counter, Jenna wondered exactly how long Agent Coulson had been waiting for her. It couldn't have been long, the store wasn't even open more than a few minutes. Had they been watching her home? Jenna didn't hate S.H.I.E.L.D. by any means but they had proven to her beyond a doubt that they could make themselves a huge inconvenience in her life.

"Oh, definitely violins. Violins surrounded with kittens, actually." Coulson nodded reassuringly.

"Well...I mean, if there's kittens." Jenna felt herself relax a little. She had only been working with Agent Coulson for a short time but the older man made her feel comfortable and she didn't get the feeling he'd lie to her. Not that her visions came with any sort of internal lie detector or anything because, you know, that would be useful. Jenna sighed and took a sip of the latte.

"So what do I need to be bribed for?"

"We have a job for you." Coulson brightened visibly. "A nice job with a fancy tower and a payscale higher than minimum wage."

"I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. determined I wasn't useful or reliable as a field agent?" At least that's what she'd been told after her nearly six month long stay with them. The reason Jenna knew that while a doctor's office wouldn't find epilepsy but would find _something_ was because she'd been to see a doctor shortly after her little ability presented itself. The visions she'd been able to write off as weird dreams or coincidences but the loss of time, massive headaches, and freaky yellow eyes had all been serious red flags for her and she'd been positive she was harboring some sort of brain tumor or radioactive poisoning or something.

She hadn't even needed to wait the full week for her lab results before a man and a woman in non descript suits had showed up at her door with the results in hand and the rest was history. Jenna hadn't even ever seen the actual scans and she was fairly sure she never would, nor would any other human outside of a certain clearance level.

"It's not anything combative. It's a simple watch and report." Again, that reassuring smile. It really was like a dad smile, Jenna thought taking another careful sip.

"Like spying?" She frowned. "I'm not a very good spy."

"Oh, I don't know. That little performance earlier wasn't half bad. Seizures, huh? Smart." He wagged his eyebrows approvingly.

"It's only so I can keep a job." Jenna replied hotly, feeling her face color. "I don't like to lie, okay, but what am I supposed to tell people when my brain decides to go AWOL?"

"Like I said," Coulson stood up straight and adjusted his suit jacket. "Smart. It wouldn't be anything dangerous or espionage-y. You'd be in friendly territory and just sort of... feeling things out."

"Like sitting around and waiting to see if I have a vision?" Well that didn't exactly sound death defying by any means. Jenna eyed Duncan from his post at the check out counter. He was recounting the drawers yet again. Maybe the offer was worth looking into?

"Precisely. Also, if you see anything with your regular people eyes that looks out of the ordinary you can report that too. The target you'd be observing has been displaying some unusual and erratic behavior...well, erratic-er. We just want to make sure he's okay." He grinned.

"Who am I supposed to be observing?" This sounded incredibly easy and Coulson was smart to play on her sympathies. It sounded like this person might actually need help and that sounded a lot more appealing than discreetly directing late thirty-something housewives to the romance and erotica section.

"Tony Stark." There was a small hesitation and a slight grimace that accompanied this reveal and Jenna thought there damn well should be.

"You want me to spy on _Tony_?!" Jenna set the porcelain tumbler down with an indignant 'click'.

"Oh, we're yelling now." Agent Coulson sighed as he glanced around uncomfortably. "You know this is one of the reasons you didn't make field agent." It was a fake chastisement meant to make her laugh or smile. Anything to detract from the epic fit Jenna was prepared to throw at him.

"You're telling me you want me to go spy on freaking Tony. At Stark Tower? Like just work for him and text you when he's acting 'extra crazy'." Jenna sighed and crossed her arms. It was beginning to look like she'd be under Duncan's greasy thumb for a little while longer.

"That's the gist of it. You wouldn't actually text, though. Email is preferred."

"You know my uncle works for him. They're like best friends or something." It wasn't a question but Jenna wanted him to answer it anyway. "I'm not working with my Uncle. He's way too overprotective as it is, if I had to work with him he'd make what you're asking virtually impossible. The man is like pure suspicion watered down with a solid dose of paranoia. He'd know I was up to something."

Jenna had moved in with her uncle when she was twelve due to a flighty and rather absentee mother. After getting used to fending for herself coming under her uncle's hawk like gaze and particularly smothering brand of love and affection had been nothing but a world of stress for her preteen self. Jenna knew he meant well but at age twenty-eight she was still fielding daily calls or texts asking how she was doing, what she was doing, or her (personal favorite) did she have any boys over?

"Stark Tower is a very large place. You likely won't run into each other." Coulson pushed the latte back towards her. "That, and you'd be helping your uncle's friend."

"Is there really something going on with him?" Jenna's curiosity got the best of her. She hadn't ever really spoken with the man but growing up she'd met him plenty of times in passing. Technically he was her uncle's boss but he never showed up at their house without some ridiculous gift or present for her. He was a wildly unpredictable man and Jenna secretly adored how he drove her straight laced uncle nuts. One time he'd even shown up with a six foot tall stuffed giraffe for her 16th birthday which hadn't been for another two months. She smiled at the memory.

Jenna remember a strange sense of giddy pride the day the eccentric man had announced to the world that he was Ironman. Also, a slight sense of indebtedness because ever since the announcement her uncle had been so busy at work that he'd finally let up on all the calls and random unannounced drop ins to her apartment.

She still had that damn giraffe shoved in the back of her hall closet.

"We don't know for sure. We have other people watching him, of course, and there hasn't been any concrete evidence but my gut tells me yes." Agent Coulson's gut might not sound like much to go on to anybody else but to the girl who routinely saw or felt snippets of the future she could appreciate the potential weight to the statement.

"So, this is a paying gig?" Jenna let out a breath. Since it was her uncle's crazy buddy/boss Jenna would've done it for free, if she was really honest with herself. _But_, rent was coming up like soon-soon and even working overtime she wasn't exactly living her best life financially speaking. "I hope this bougy cup came with a top."

"How about we blow this pop stand and discuss it more in the car on the way to the interview?" Coulson didn't hesitate to whip out the matching travel top to the mug, even going so far as to pop it on before handing the tumbler back to her.

"Interview? I thought you already gave me the secret spy job?" Jenna didn't bother punching out, snatching her purse from the cramped little cabinet.

"You're employed by S.H.I.E.L.D. now, yes, but we still have to get Stark Inc. to hire you, too." Coulson explained, escorting her towards the large double glass doors.

"Oh, like a cover. How do you know they'll even pick me? Isn't working for Ironman like super duper competitive?" She'd seen the news reports about the desperate college graduates who camped outside the tower, attempted bribery, or even written songs to try and secure a position with the influential company. Those had been ivy league graduates. Jenna only had her associates degree from an online university.

"Don't worry, we've taken the liberty of beefing up your resume for you. Also, I believe Agent May arranged for a change of clothing. Something about a Jimmy Choo if I remember correctly." Coulson winked at her as they both actively ignored Duncan's high pitched shrieks of indignation behind them.

"I like shoes." Jenna grinned lamely as Coulson opened the door to a very luxurious and very red classic convertible.

"Don't we all?" Coulson started the car and Jenna was tempted to let her hair down like one of those supermodel actresses did in the Bond movies but she had packed neither the brush nor the self confidence to actually pull it off.

She was doing it, though. She was actually going to do the thing. Sure, something like this could only last so long, especially since S.H.I.E.L.D. knew from her six months of captivity-er, residency, with them that she couldn't pull out visions on command. They'd done all they could to hone her abilities, help her figure them out and possibly make her into some sort of seer tool for them to be able to access but it had been all for naught. The visions were always spotty at best and seemed to arrive whenever they felt like it, no catalyst necessary. Still, she needed this. Change. To move forward. To move in any direction, honestly. She was almost thirty, sleeping in ratty bedsheets, working at a fricking chain bookstore, with absolutely no connections to the world around her.

They must really be worried about Tony if they were trying to dust her unreliable butt off the shelf. Jenna chewed her bottom lip and found herself saying a little prayer to whatever deity was listening that the loopy man who used to pass out on their living room couch once a month, usually in a tuxedo, was going to be alright.

That and she prayed her uncle never ever ever found out about this.

Ugh.


End file.
